Kyle, Todd’s older brother, had always been a brute. Even when they were kids, long before Todd had realized anything about his sexuality, he had known that, in his family’s house, there was only one true law of power, and that was sheer physical might. Perhaps, had his brother not been such a violent bully, things would have turned out differently for everyone, but as it was, he had never once allowed Todd to forget that Kyle was the one with the might. That the only person who could usurp him was their father, and so, when they were alone, he had no choice but to obey, or face the consequences.
Now that he was an adult, his violence had served his less successfully. He worked in construction, one of the few jobs around here where he could exercise his might, and still hadn’t settled down, despite being nearly thirty, and had instead settled for a series of relationships with young women he’d attempted to beat into submission. If he’d been smarter about it, he likely could have controlled them with it, like a normal abuser, but for Kyle, it was only violence that mattered–even Todd, as a child, had recognized his brother didn’t have the instinct for control, only power. It was a shame really–with more mindful violence, in this town, in this world, he could have been someone.
Instead, he lived in a trailer park, respected only because he remained nominally within their father’s orbit. He worked, and he worked out, and he worked over whatever bitch he happened to be seeing at the moment, who hadn’t yet wised up to his brother’s abusive games, or who had been lured back by his relative charm and occasional stability. The next morning, Todd relaxed around his father’s home, still a bit hungover from the rush of the day before, taking in the changes of his own body the gloves had brought on. It was a curse, allegedly, but to Todd it was a curse he was more than happy to live with. For the first time, looking in the mirror, he saw a man looking back at him, a man he’d always pictured in his head, a body he’d always desired but never been able to achieve. He was horny too, and the gloves were more than happy to encourage that, stroking him gently, but as hard as he tried to push himself over the edge, the gloves held back, merely milking his longer cock to near orgasm. They knew what he had in mind, they knew what they really wanted. Frustrated, he threw on some clothes, now a bit ill-fitting, climbed in his father’s truck and decided to stalk his brother for a bit, until their meeting in the afternoon.
He found him working on some road work downtown, and took up a spot in a small restaurant across the way where he could observe. He was…big, but not as big as he had always seemed in his memories. In fact, he seemed…almost disappointingly small after all of these years–maybe five foot ten, two hundred and twenty pounds. Thick, certainly, but he’d gone a bit to pot as well over the years. In any case, he was no longer the ripped jock stalking him in the hallways of his childhood. Still, the years hadn’t bruised his ego, apparently–he could see how he interacted with everyone on the site, the air of assumed superiority, it had him gritting his teeth, gloves aching to touch and beckon and work on him, but he waited.
He followed him home to his trailer, gave him a few minutes to settle, and then pulled up and parked, taking a moment to light himself a cigar in the cab, the smoke helping to settle his eagerness, and then he got out and walked up to the door. It took Kyle a few moments to answer, and it was clear, when he saw the stranger on the steps, he had absolutely no clue who Todd was–then again, Todd wouldn’t have recognized himself either.
“Who the fuck are you? I ain’t buying anything,” Kyle said, “Get off my property if you don’t want your face beaten in.”
It was a classic line, really. How many times had he said that to Todd when they were kids?
“Come on now Kyle, no time for a brother?” Todd said, and while it took him a couple of seconds to click the gears together, he saw recognition light up his face.
“Holy shit, Todd? What the…you fucking faggot, what the fuck are you even doing back here? Dad’s gonna have a fit if he sees you, you fuck, I oughta kick your fucking ass for showing up here, you piece of shit…”
“Trust me bro, Dad has much bigger worries at the moment–I’m here to see you.”
Todd could see the thought forming in Kyle’s mind, the violence short circuiting the rest of his reasoning, but before he could threaten and then follow through, he reached out one gloved hand and laid it on his brother’s shoulder, and saw his eyes glaze slightly.
“Bro, let me in–we need to have a conversation, don’t you think?”
Kyle found himself nodding, and when Todd gave him a gentle push back, he stepped away from the doorway and let Todd step into the trailer, the screen door shutting behind him.
“How…what the fuck was that?” Kyle asked, shaking his head.
“You shouldn’t worry too much about that,” Todd said, taking a long drag off his cigar and blowing the smoke into the trailer’s air. “Or I suppose, you can worry about that if you want, but trust me Kyle, pretty soon, you won’t be worrying about much of anything anymore.”
He was getting ready to strike. Todd could see all of his tells. He let the fist come flying, and he caught it in one gloves hand, gently, and Kyle let off a groan, his knees giving way in sudden pleasure. “I don’t think you’ll be trying that anymore, bro. We need to find a better way for you to…express yourself, don’t you think? Your fists have done enough talking for a lifetime. I want to hear some moans from now on.”
Bracken's Corner 